Rich Man, Poor Man
by ThePointGirl
Summary: Sam finds Dean beaten and bruised outside a bar where he was hustling. Unfortunately Dean does get caught cheating at cards sometimes. What Sam does is not really what Dean expects - nor is it what Sam expects either. Slash. Wincest.


**Disclaimer: **I don't own SPN

**Notes:  
**For my girl FreekDisaster18 :) Review if you like it.

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Dean's body, limp and all angles, the lips still smirking a little. Sam hauled him up by the lapels of his jacket, steadying him so his brother couldn't keel over. The hard brick was no help, when Dean's back hit it Sam saw the wince.

'Dean! You should have gotten out of there! What's-' he was going to end that with 'wrong with you' but Dean looked up at Sam, one eye blotched and lips bleeding, the other injuries avoiding his face obviously.

'Well, I didn't think they were smart enough to know I'd hustled 'em' Dean half shrugged, and Sam was oh so concerned when a flicker of pain dusted over Dean's features.

'What happened? I kept calling-'

'You flounced off and they raised the stakes' Dean bit out. Sam was so confused, what did the beating up of his brother have to do with the stupid argument they had? 'Lovers spat and all that bull. Thought the money was for you. Called you a 'kept boy' or something. Hmph' Dean looked half amused, half pissed off.

'Dean, I'm sorry' Sam apologised but Dean just held on to him, squeezing his arm, ignoring him really. That was his way of saying _I know._ Dean nodded towards the end of the alley, the one to the car park.

'The car? They better not have damaged her' and Sam scowled at his brother's stretch of concern to the Impala.

'Nope it's all still fine, I checked in case you'd drove off' Sam replied, easing Dean off the wall, boots shuffling on the alley ground. Dean rummaged in his back pocket for the keys mumbling something along the lines of 'didn't take anything apart from my cash. Meant to be grateful?' followed by a grimace.

Dean had twisted slightly, facing him and Sam got rather distracted by the slip of blood hanging off Dean's lip from inside his gums. The deep red was so stark against the light pink of Dean's lip, even in the dark of the light with the reflection from the car park streetlights.

Sam leaned forward a licked the trickle of blood off, feeling Dean's warm breath over his lips. It was when their lips brushed, and Sam felt the warm pant of breath that Sam jerked back and Dean froze. He was still enough to the point Sam doubted he was breathing. Sam blinked, realising what he had just done, the echo of Dean's blood was a sharp tang on his tongue. Sam felt his heart pick up, anxiety and a strum of lust. God this was weird. What the hell was –

'Get in the car Sam' Dean's voice was quiet, calm and it was hiding everything.

'Are you sure you can-'

'GET IN THE CAR!' Dean snapped, pushing Sam away. Dean grappled with the Impala door and shoved himself inside. Sam hurried to get in, shutting the door and sitting stiffly in the car.

Sam tried to help Dean but it was to no avail. In the motel room Sam watched his brother slip off his jacket.

'Why did you do that?'

Sam looked blankly, more attention paid to the blue patch around Dean's eye, and when Dean began to peel off his outer shirt the blood that was from sliced skin. Jeeze. They roughed him up bad.

'I-' and he faltered, not knowing a good enough reason as to why he had wanted to know what Dean's lips felt like in that millisecond.

'You licked me, Sam' and that was the last thing Dean said, as he snatched the medical aid kit Sam was holding and disappeared into the bathroom.

The next morning faired no better, with Sam getting little to no sleep. He was up at his laptop, trying to find _something _possibly supernatural so they could get out of the damned motel, away from the town, focus on something other than the crinkled, tension filled air around them. Dean was ignoring him, trying to act as if nothing had happened, trying to fake a smile – the one he uses on countless women, which pissed Sam off no end because, really, Dean thought he was that stupid not to see through the smile?

Sam had to drink three cups of coffee to wash the taste of Dean's blood – the flavour of Dean that was in a spiral around him. The taste sent his own blood racing and the memory of Dean's soft plump lip and oh shit he was royally screwed. Sam couldn't even justify why he had done it that was what was maddening. Dean's lip was all red and glistening and Dean looked so vulnerable…

'Christo' he whispered, wondering whether it could actually work on himself. Self exorcism is technically possible. The answer was most likely _no_ as Dean sent him a look paralleled with the one he gave the puppy at Missouri's who kept jumping up to say hello and was extremely happy to see Dean.

'I'm sure you're not possessed, dude. Already tried' and anger flared up, it didn't last though, it was just enough to make him annoyed at how Dean could just assume he was possessed. As much as Sam would like that to be true right now, it wasn't.

'Dean I'm sorry, I don't –'

'Can we just forget it? You found anything?' Dean's face was shuttered, telling Sam he didn't want to talk. Sam looked back at his laptop as if it would somehow magically produce a case.

'Uh not as such no. Do you want to try the papers?' he asked but Dean was already across the room, a regional paper in hand.

It was like that for the rest of the day; shuffling around each other and being almighty, they could be characters on a B-side TV show for this.

When Bobby showed up he took one look between the pair and asked 'What happened?'

Neither answered, making Bobby even more frustrated. The hunter rolled his eyes, sat down on the chair, adjusting his cap. 'Out with it'

It was a tone only Sam had heard from Dad when he was a kid. Sam offered a look to Dean but Sam's gaze unwittingly dropped to Dean's lip, the bruise showing the blood had cleared off. Dean licked his lips and once he was aware he'd done it he broke off Sam's gaze, turning back to Bobby. Bobby was scowling at the pair and Sam was reminded of the time with the Trickster who got them at each other's throats and in each other's face.

'Come on y'pair of idjits what is it? If you blame him for a missing laptop, or itchy pants I swear-' Bobby demanded, however Sam had to stop him.

'It's not like that Bobby. Not this time anyhow' Sam assured the hunter.

'Well Sam, you're the only one talking, tell me'

'Don't Sammy' Dean warned and Bobby leaned forward in his chair, squinting at Dean's face. Dean just scowled defensively back, not liking to be under Bobby's scrutiny.

'What in hell happened to you? You're all smacked up. A pissed off spirit never has that much aim for punching a persons lights out' Bobby muttered and Dean shrugged.

'I hustled at a bar and they caught me. Took my cash and winnings' Dean answered, Bobby nodding in understanding.

'That can't be all of it boy, you've taken worse before and more often. What's got you two almost hurling stuff?' and Dean scoffed. Sam, who had been watching the scene, found an interesting scar on his hand. 'I ain't got the patience boys, believe me' he added and Sam decided enough was enough, and he wasn't taking anymore of the nonsense.

'Bobby, something happened between Dean and I-'

'Oh jeeze, am I going to have to do marriage counselling too now?'

'Sam, shut up!' Dean glared in his direction, emerald eyes blazing with a heat that made Sam's hear stop.

'What do we do then, Dean? We can't forget it but we can't talk about it!' Sam raised his voice, turning to his brother.

'Sam, do I have to remind you that you licked the blood off my lip and very nearly kissed me. Not only is the whole blood thing really _fucking kinky_, but dude _it's me_!' Dean shouted back, his arms crossed over his chest.

'I told you I was sorry!' Sam yelled back.

'So you keep saying' Dean replied even before Sam had finished his sentence. 'Sorry. Sorry. Give me a break. I don't need sorry, what I need is a why the hell you thought doing that was a good idea?'

Sam could honestly say that he didn't know - his brain on freakin' repeat. It was affection, concern, and annoyance that had bubbled up, needing an outlet. In that briefest of moments, lust had surged through him and it scared him. The feeling resembled slamming into a wall.

'Dean I've told you I don't –'

'Know yeah, yeah' Dean mimicked him in his usual sarcastic manner that he does when on the defence with anyone. 'Seriously Sam, if this is your answer to the prank war, you need help'

Sam shook his head sadly, because ha, that would have been have been an excuse, no?

'Whoa, boys! Stop. Let me get this straight before I die of old age. Sam, you almost kissed Dean?' Sam marveled at Bobby's ability to neither laugh, nor shout curses – be them Latin or English – at the top of his lungs. It was impressive and safe. Sam nodded, and Dean just bristled, not looking anywhere near Bobby. The hunter, strangely enough, had a small smile on his face. 'Listen, both of yous, unless you both need to get something off your chest use this as the time to do so. Otherwise? Move on; forget about it' Bobby said gruffly, 'you're breaking my heart'

Forget about it was highly overrated.

Bobby helped with some ideas for a possible hunt but the job in turn fell through. Bobby then told them to get their asses over to his place for a while.

They were packing up their stuff to check out and leave – they being Dean, Sam was sitting on the bed fiddling with his anti possession bracelet, the tassel had come undone.

'Why didn't you hit me?' Sam eventually asked after consideration of what might come out. Dean wasn't in his direct eye line but he felt his brother pause. Sam swore he knew everything about how Dean's body moved even without looking at him. That was an odd thought. He blinked.

'You think I had the strength, Sammy?' he laughed but it wasn't entirely sincere.

'Well you did when you broke your leg on a hunt and I was getting on your nerves, so you took a swing at me even doped up on Nyquil and other crap' Sam reasoned. Every other fibre in his body was telling him to back off and shut up. Then again, Sam never learnt how to really listen.

'I was thirteen. Besides, I missed. Was aiming for your jaw and I got your ear instead' Sam smiled at that. More shoving of clothing in a bag, the sound of a bottle being taken off the table.

'Hurt like a bitch anyway' Sam said, adding 'Seriously, you should have hit me' and he decided to ignore the part of him that was telling him not to verbalise wanting to be hit.

'Typical of you Sam. When I hit you, you tell me to talk it out and all that other chick flick stuff. When I don't you're telling me to!' Dean threw up his arms. Sam rubbed a hand into his chestnut hair, pulling at the strands, making it hurt. He listened closely, hearing Dean thinking. None of that juvenile stuff he said when he was young about hearing the cogs work in Dean's head, none of that. What Sam could hear was the tick of his brother's jaw – something was bothering him (aside from the obvious) and he was trying to work a way round it, like he did on hunts. Sam thought, at that moment, that perhaps knowing Den so well because of close quarters as kids was beneficial. He stayed quiet, not wanting to anger the wolf.

'Okay Sammy, you wanna know why I didn't hit you?' Dean took a step nearer Sam, and because of his training was already mapping out ways to scrap if things got dirty. Refusing to say, _It's Sam, _Sam nodded, only barely conscious of doing so.

Sam felt a hand at the base of his neck, fingers in his hair, Dean's hand tugging. Not knowing when he'd shut his eyes, the next sensation was zoned only to Dean's lips on his. The memory of the softness and the taste; everything went bang and slammed Sam's body into alert mode. The pressure of a promise was in Dean's kiss, it was his 'I'll keep you safe' with a smattering of something more sinful.

Then it was over and Sam opened his eyes to Dean hovering over him, his own green orbs unveiling emotion after emotion. Sam was breathless, and he didn't take his eyes off Dean's face.

'That's why' Sam blinked. Dean didn't hit him, wouldn't abuse him, because he loved him. Sam clutched onto Dean's jacket sleeve, thumb grazing Dean's hand.

'Dean' he swallowed and he stood up on shaky legs, crowding Dean's body, worried he was going to run for it. 'Dean' he repeated, leaning down. Dean's tanned skin and golden-green eyes, the sprinkling of freckles across his nose were the only things in his sight. Sam caught Dean's mouth in a hungry kiss. His mouth was so warm the caress of his lips softer than Sam could have thought possible even from the memory of the other day. Sam tasted tentatively with his tongue, and Dean opened his mouth with a low moan.

They broke apart, Sam resting his forehead against Dean's. 'I need you' he whispered.

'Need you too Sammy'

'What're we gonna do?'

'Stick together, stick through it'

Dean shifted Sam's hands away and Sam had sense of rejection, but Dean raised his hands to his face and curled them at Sam's neck, pads of his thumb pressing under his jaw. Dean did that when Sam was hurt, inspecting his wounds, but now was different.

_I love you_

_Ditto_

Or something along those lines. Dean brushed a lock of hair away from Sam's eyes, and Sam rested his hands on Dean's belt.

A honk came from outside, initiating that Bobby was getting impatient. Dean smacked Sam's cheek and turned away, picking up his bags. Sam instantly missed the heat and warmth of Dean.

They drove to Bobby's, following the hunter in his truck, and in getting out onto the gravel in South Dakota, Sam almost missed the smile on Bobby's face when Dean prompted Sam forward with a palm on his lower back.


End file.
